


a buried and a burning flame

by IceImagines



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Wingman Jester, angst angst angst, beau centric, canon compliant until episode 86, dairon gives love life advice, fistfights, major character death is temporary, minor one sided b/j, non-fist fights, the complicated love life of beauregard lionett, vaguely alluded to shadowgast, yasha's bone harp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceImagines/pseuds/IceImagines
Summary: Yasha is back, and everything is different. Beau is forced deal with her feelings once and for all.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 32
Kudos: 316





	a buried and a burning flame

**Author's Note:**

> i've been on this for literally half a year what the fuck
> 
> i rewrote the entire last third from scratch bc i hated it but i like how it is now
> 
> my first beauyasha fic but ive been here since nearly the beginning, hi everyone! 
> 
> title from sunlight by hozier which is a beauyasha BOP
> 
> enjoy, and leave me a comment if you like :)

Everything was blurry. All she could hear were her own heavy breaths in her ears. The iron taste of blood was there on her tongue, and she wanted to spit it out, but she couldn't. Her body wouldn't obey her. Her arms rose above her head, and she felt the weight of the Skingorger in her hands as she brought it down, her muscles commanded by some force outside herself. The blade pierced skin, cut through flesh and muscle, drove an inch or so into the stone beneath before she yanked it out. Blood sprayed across her front. 

The body beneath her had gone limp, the face rigid and ashen, the blood drained from it. The Skingorger's blade dripped red. 

There was a ringing in her ears, something deep within her chest that wanted to claw its way out, but she couldn't think. Couldn't feel. She could only breathe, in, out, in, out, taste the blood and the salt of her own tears in her mouth, and-

The ever present burning at the back of neck exploded. The fire consumed her for what simultaneously felt like an eternity and only a heartbeat, and then everything collapsed in on itself and was replaced by an instant of complete darkness. She sucked in huge, desperate breaths, eyes wide open but blinded. Her muscles seized up painfully, then slackened, and control over them returned to her.

Then her vision cleared and her eyes fell on the body on the steps to the altar. 

Beauregard's eyes were closed, her dark skin smeared with blood. A thin trickle of it ran down from the corner of her mouth. There was a giant gaping hole in her chest. 

Yasha screamed. 

\----------------------------

The ongoing rain had turned the road into little more than a single puddle of mud, which was spraying the sides of the cart as the unnamed horse they'd bought two towns ago struggled to drag it forward. It was only drizzling at the moment, but one look at the thick blanket of slate grey clouds above told Beauregard that the sky would soon go back to attempting to drown them.

Jester was chatting to Nott in the back of the cart, but even her usually unbridled enthusiasm seemed halfhearted today. Fjord, who was walking next to the cart along with Yasha, had been perpetually scowling since the start of the journey, his mood not exactly improved by Nott's constant jokes about him liking water so much. Caleb, who had been petting Frumpkin absentmindedly and blankly staring off into the distance for several hours, was in the front seat next to Caduceus. The firbolg was handling the reins and seemed to be the only member of the party who wasn't completely miserable. 

Beau shivered and hugged herself tighter. Her sleeveless coat didn't offer much protection from the rain, which the others had pointed out countless times and which she'd ignored wholeheartedly. It was in moments like this that she sometimes quietly wished she owned more weather appropriate clothes, not that she'd ever let anyone know. She had a reputation to maintain, after all. 

They could've avoided all this if Caleb hadn't been out of the chalk he needed to draw a teleportation circle. Beau wanted to cry when she thought about her warm, comfortable bed back at the Xhorhaus. She could've been drinking Caduceus's tea under the magic tree on the roof right then. Instead she was sitting on the floor of a cramped wooden cart, cold and wet and every inch of her aching.

The battle beneath the cathedral had been almost a week ago, but her body remembered the burns, the cuts, the bruises, no matter how many healing spells Jester used.

"Beau." 

Yasha's voice was soft, but Beau still jumped at the sound of it, hitting her elbow on the cart's wall. Yasha had been quiet since they'd rescued her, more quiet even than before. She almost never spoke unless directly addressed. Even then, she didn't meet anyone's eyes, gave monosyllabic answers. This had to be the first time since the battle that she initiated a conversation with anyone. 

"Uh, yeah?" Beau pushed herself up a little to be able to better look at her. Yasha was staring at the road in front of her, but her head was slightly turned in Beau's direction. Beau noticed that her face paint had become runny with the rain, drawing blue streaks down her cheeks. 

"Are you cold?" she asked quietly. 

"You aren't?" Beau realized how aggressive that had sounded after it was already too late, and she balked, ready to apologize, but Yasha reached up and undid the clasp holding her cloak together. She pulled the garment off her shoulders and held it up, offering it to Beau, still not looking at her. 

"Put this on. It'll keep you warm."

Beau stared at the cloak, then at Yasha, and at the cloak again. "I... I thought you didn't take that off?" 

The ragged, broken traces of a smile made their way onto Yasha's face. "That was a long time ago." For just a moment, she finally met Beau's eyes. "Take it. Please." 

Beau took the cloak. She wrapped herself up in it, the thick furred shoulder pieces tickling her nose. Jester turned around and wiggled her eyebrows at her, but Beau ignored it. 

Yasha had gone back to looking at the mud beneath her feet as they trudged on. Somehow, she looked a lot more vulnerable without her cloak, even though Beau knew in the event of an attack she would still be able to take more hits than any of them. She'd been so reckless recently, throwing herself headfirst into battle, directing attacks towards her. 

It was troubling to say her like that, to say the least.

Beau pulled the cloak tighter around herself and leaned back, head bumping against the wall of the cart. With any luck, they would reach Zadash before dark today, but it was still a long time until then. 

When they finally reached the city, the clouds had vanished along with the rain. The stars were already visible up in the sky, a view that seemed unfairly beautiful compared to the state most of the group was in.

Jester had decided that they would stay at the Pillow Trove, declaring they had earned the luxury. Nobody felt like protesting. They had the cart and the horse taken care of, scarfed down a quickly prepared meal, and somehow managed to make their way up the stairs to the rooms they had rented, one for Beau and Jester, one for Nott and Caleb, one for Fjord and Caduceus, and one for Yasha alone, at her own request. Beau felt about ready to collapse, the way she normally only did when she'd had too much to drink. She hadn't felt this exhausted in months. 

Beau sheepishly handed the cloak back to Yasha in the hallway before they parted ways.

"Uh, thanks. For letting me borrow that." 

Yasha stared down at the fabric balled up in her hand. She was close enough that Beau could see the creases in the black and blue paint smeared around her eyes, the small white scar above her brow, the fine lines on her forehead born of the sorrow that hung over her like a dark veil. 

"It's the least I can do. I... I've already caused you so much pain..."

She reached out with her free hand like she wanted to touch the scar on Beau's abdomen where the Skingorger had pierced her skin, but then she faltered and drew the hand back.

"Sorry," she whispered. Beau didn't get a chance to say anything before she turned and entered her room, closing the door behind her. 

Beau stood in the hallway for a few more moments, staring at the closed door to Yasha's room. She wondered - and felt despicable for it - whether she would still be there the next morning. 

Then Jester peeked out of the doorway to her and Beau's room and chimed " _Beaauu_ , are you _cooming?_ " in her familiar sing-song voice. Beau sighed and went to join her. 

"Yeah, yeah."

She flopped face down on the ridiculously soft bed without even bothering to take off her coat or shoes. It had been so long since she'd slept in a bed that the feeling was almost uncomfortable now. But that wouldn't stop her from falling asleep right there and not waking up within the next twelve hours. 

She was already dozing off when Jester's voice pierced through her haze of exhaustion. 

"So, what was that whole thing with Yasha earlier?" 

"Hmrpf?"

"You know, like, letting you borrow her cloak and stuff, because you know that was super nice and sweet of her and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have done that for one of the rest of us." 

Beau somehow found the strength to open her eyes a crack and was greeted with the sight of Jester, already in her frilly nightgown, lying on her back so that her head was hanging off the side of the bed. Her solid black eyes blinked meaningfully at Beau. 

"Don't know what you're talking about," Beau mumbled. 

"Oh, come on, like you didn't notice the way," Jester's voice lowered in the way it did whenever she was trying to make a double entendre, " _she was looking at you Beau._ " Her eyebrows were wiggling again. 

Beau let out a deep sigh and sluggishly rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. She knew perfectly well that there was no escape from Jester when she wanted to talk about something, whether that was the chapter of Tusk Love she reread last night or something more serious. It was one of the things Beau usually found endearing about her, but right now, she just wanted to sleep.

But she did have to admit that Yasha's unusual behavior had made her think.

Another sigh. "I don't know, Jessie. She's just been kinda... off since we got her back. Probably the trauma of being mind controlled or something. I wouldn't read too much into it, whatever it is." 

Jester just looked at her her skeptically and didn't say anything. Beau crossed her arms over her chest and blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. 

"I mean, I guess the cloak thing was kind of weird. Just a bit out of character for her. Especially because it just came out of nowhere. I didn't even say I was cold or anything - and it's not like I would've asked her for her cloak-" 

" _Well,_ " Jester interrupted, "I remember a time when you specifically tried to get her to give it to you." She paused. "The cloak, I mean, but-" 

Beau cut her off with a groan. "Jessie..." 

Jester cackled and rolled over onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands.

"Well, clearly she _really_ cares about you, Beau. I mean, she totally took a hit from that gross slimy monster we fought for you and stuff." 

"She did _what?_ " 

Jester slapped her forehead. "Oh, of course you don't remember, silly me! So beneath the cathedral after we killed Obann and he turned into this huge blob of slime, you got knocked out, right? And Yasha ran over to you and swooped you up in her big strong arms," she let out an exaggerated dreamy sigh, "and carried you away from danger, all romantic-like! And the slimy monster got a hit in on her as she went, it hit her real hard with one of its tentacles, but she didn't even budge, she just grit her teeth and kept going, it was so cool you should have seen it Beau." 

"Oh. Wow." Beau pushed herself up on her elbows. "That's. Impressive."

"So impressive," Jester assured her.

"I really need to go thank her for that. You guys could've told me." Beau rubbed her forehead. "What I don't get is why the fuck she would do that. She could've used that time to attack the thing instead. And I'm sure someone would've gotten me back up at some point." 

"Oh, Beau," Jester said like Beau was being very silly, "it's obviously because she _likes you!_ " 

Beau sputtered. "Because she- no, Jess, c'mon, there's no way. I mean, she has that whole thing going on with her wife, and also, the way I used to come onto her wasn't exactly subtle." She cleared her throat. "I'm just saying, if she was interested she would've made that clear already." 

"She's making it clear now," Jester said very seriously. "I know _everything_ about this stuff, Beau. Yasha is super duper, totally in love with you." 

Beau slumped back down into her pillows. "Just because she gave me her cloak?" she mumbled. "I don't think so." 

"Well, I do. I'm sure you'll eventually realize that I'm right." 

Beau wasn't looking at her anymore, but she could hear fabric rustling as Jester pulled the sheets over herself. 

"I'm going to sleep now," she announced, chipper as ever and not sounding tired at all, but Beau knew she'd be out cold as soon as she blew out the candle on her nightstand. She always was. 

"Good night, Jessie." 

"Good night, Beau." 

The light went out, and a minute later Jester's gentle snoring reached Beau's ears. 

Beau let out a barely audible breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. She changed out of her Expositor's robes and into the softer, old tunic that she'd taken to sleeping in in the dark, laid back down and haphazardly pulled her sheets up. She closed her eyes and tried very hard to will herself to relax and fall asleep, but sleep wouldn't come, in spite of how tired she'd been earlier. 

After an entirely too long time of tossing and turning restlessly, she kicked the too-soft sheets off her legs in frustration, staring up at the dark ceiling. It was decorated with an elaborate mural, but right now it just looked like a black mass of nothing. 

Jester's words wouldn't leave her thoughts. _Yasha is super duper, totally in love with you._ It seemed easy to just write it off as Jester being Jester, hopeless romantic that she was, obsessing over the heroes in the novels that she read and always believing in the good in everyone and everything they encountered. She said that she "knew everything about this stuff", but Beau was perfectly aware that Jester didn't know nearly as much about the world as she claimed she did. 

And it seemed so absurd. Even a little bit insulting. After everything that had happened, all the times Beau had tried to flirt with Yasha and hit a brick wall, after losing Yasha and being forced to brace herself for the horrible reality that she might never come back, after all of that - _now_ Yasha supposedly liked her? 

Not that it mattered. Even if what Jester said was true, Beau didn't...

Well. She had feelings for Jester now. Feelings that she'd spent many a night agonizing over, that she'd drunkenly confessed to Nott, that she'd didn't want Jester ever finding out about because the thought that it could ruin what they had was unbearable. 

She liked Jester. And Yasha had been gone for so long. Beau had been a different person when they'd met. So much had happened since then. The Beau from now would never have asked a woman she just met for her shawl, or to hold her through a circus performance. The Beau from now wouldn't make innuendos and try lazy pickup lines over and over. The Beau from now would just accept that Yasha didn't have an interest in her and move on.

Which she had. Moved on. It wasn't happening, she'd realized that months ago, when Yasha had told them about her wife if not before.

But she couldn't get the look on Yasha's face after they'd freed her out of her mind, the way she'd touched the wound on Beau's stomach that she had caused. Her broken "I'm sorry" while the golden light flowing out from her fingers knitted Beau's flesh back together. 

Her cloak had, incredibly, still smelled a little like wildflowers. 

Beau sighed and turned over onto her side again, open eyes staring at nothing. She thought of Jester's brilliant smile and the excitement in her voice as she sing-songed about how Yasha totally liked Beau. 

"Feelings suck," she whispered to herself, before screwing her eyes shut, clutching her pillow and trying very, very hard to fall asleep. 

It took nearly an hour, but eventually she drifted off. She slept fitfully, and awoke the next morning with a vague sense of unease that told her she'd had troubled dreams, but she couldn't remember any of them.

Caleb went to Pumat to stock up on magic chalk after breakfast. They bought out his supply of healing potions, as usual, and Jester got a new diamond in case they needed it. Someone pointed out that Yasha still didn't have the bracers she'd commissioned back in Rosohna. Yasha just gave a pained smile and said nothing. 

They teleported back to Xhorhas the same day. Beau had never thought she'd one day refer to the capital of the Kryn Dynasty as comforting, but something about the now-familiar sight of the perpetually dark sky and those elegant, refined buildings sprawling out beyond the horizon made her breathe a little easier. 

The Bright Queen had them summoned as soon as she learned of their arrival and demanded a detailed recounting of the events of the past weeks. Specifically, she wanted Yasha to try and recall anything and everything she'd learned while under Obann's control that could be useful, and the merciless questioning that followed was painful to behold. It took all of Beau's self control to keep herself from intervening as the Queen and her advisors needled Yasha with question after question. She answered them in a shaky voice, sounding close to tears at multiple points, her gaze trained on the floor. Beau was sure that the Queen noticed what she was doing to Yasha, but she didn't seem to care.

When they were finally dismissed, Yasha was shaking, but moved away from Jester's hands when she tried to hug her. She didn't speak a word on the way back to the Xhorhaus. When they arrived, she disappeared into her room with the mural and locked the door from the inside. 

Caduceus made tea for all of them and they drank it under the big tree on the roof, just like Beau had imagined two days ago, but it wasn't the same. Yasha's absence was even more glaring now that they had her back. Knowing that she was just downstairs and yet couldn't face them somehow hurt more than knowing her under Obann's control ever had. 

Essek approached them with a new assignment two days later, nothing major, just clearing out a band of cyclopes that had been harassing incoming merchant caravans for a few weeks. Almost pitiful considering what they had just been through, but none of them felt like complaining. They packed their belongings and traveled to a small forest a few miles outside of the city walls where the cyclopes had been sighted several times. They hid in the undergrowth next to the road, prepared to attack, and waited.

It was supposed to be an ambush, quick and dirty. And it was. 

Just not in the way they'd expected it to be.

The cyclopes surprised them. They didn't come lumbering down the main road, loud and impossible to miss. Instead, one moment Beau and the others were crouched in a thicket of trees, waiting, and the next all hell broke loose from behind them. 

Beau asked herself many times later how in the world cyclopes of all the creatures out there could have been so quiet. But in the moment she didn't have time to think about it. She barely managed to roll out of the way of a blow with a greatclub that was as big as she was, scrambling to her feet, still struggling to catch up with what was happening. Jester, who had been sitting next to her, didn't get so lucky. Beau could hear several ribs cracking as the club came down and Jester cried out in pain, but she bared her teeth and pointed a finger at the cyclops that had attacked her, snarling something in infernal. A shock of ice enveloped the giant and he howled, staggering back as he tried to break the ice off his limbs where it was turning them blue.

There were six of them in total, the shortest of them standing what must have been fifteen feet tall. Even Yasha only reached their waist, and it was hard to deal damage to anywhere that mattered. Their skin was thick and leathery and wouldn't allow blades to cut through it, and the strength with which they swung their clubs was terrifying. Beau dodged and rolled out of the way as best as she could, but even her luck could only go so far. One of Caleb's spells zinged past her and she stumbled trying to dodge it. When the cyclops she was engaged with swung his club at her, she wasn't quick enough. The pain as it hit made her black out for a moment, and when her senses returned to her she was lying several feet away on the ground, coughing and sputtering and desperately trying to regain the air that had left her lungs. Jester's giant lollipop hit one of the creatures on the head next to her and he stumbled, nearly trampling Beau in the process. She managed to get to her feet and threw a punch at the cyclops, trying to stun him, but all it seemed to do was anger him. He picked up a rock from the ground with a furious roar and threw it, without actually stopping to aim. The rock missed Beau entirely, but it hit Fjord in the back and gave another one of the giants an opening to hit him twice with his club. 

Beau was preparing to come to his aid when a guttural, blood-curling scream sounded from somewhere to the right of her. Her head whipped around and she caught sight of Yasha, standing over the corpse of one of the cyclopes, the Magician's Judge buried in his chest almost to the hilt. She was breathing heavily, blood splattered across her front, her eyes unfocused and furious. 

The fight turned around after that. They dispatched three of the remaining cyclopes quickly, Nott shooting one of them through his single eye and the other two felled by Fjord's and Yasha's blades. One of the final two was on his last legs, and Beau was preparing to finish him off with a punch that would shatter his ribs, but before she could he let out a shout of primal rage, grabbed the same rock his companion had thrown earlier, and brought it down on Caleb, who was standing behind him and didn't react quickly enough. He was thrown to the ground, and in her panic Beau leapt onto the cyclops's back and started pummeling the back of his head. The creature turned away from Caleb, howling and trying to shake her off, but she clung to him with an iron grip, her confidence that she could finish this momentarily returning to her- 

Until the cyclops turned and slammed himself back against a thick tree, crushing Beau between his body and the trunk. She felt her ribs shatter, blood filling her lungs as she tried to scream but no sound would come out. 

The cyclops took a step forward and she dropped to the ground, her vision blurred out, unable to move. Faintly, she registered someone shouting her name as the cyclops raised his greatclub over his head, preparing to bring it down on her. 

For a moment, total peace overcame her when she realized that she was going to die. She closed her eyes, exhaled, and braced for the instant of all consuming pain that would come before the darkness. 

It never did. 

An instant before the club would have hit, something moved in front of her. A scream rang out, accompanied by the sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing, and a heavy thud as a body hit the ground. Beau swore she could feel the earth tremble, and for a moment she thought the cyclops must have fallen, but then she opened her eyes. 

She was on the brink of unconsciousness, but even so she recognized Yasha, lying in a growing puddle of her own blood barely five feet away from Beau. 

She barely took note of Caduceus's beetles eating the wounded cyclops alive and the other being felled by one of Nott's crossbow bolts. All she could see were Yasha's glassy, sightless eyes staring up at the sky, a thin trail of blood trickling out of her mouth. Her chest was caved in, splinters of what had once been her ribs and her sternum sticking out of the bloody mass of ruined flesh. She wasn't moving. 

"JESTER!" Beau realized belatedly the voice that was screaming belonged to her. "CADUCEUS- HELP!" 

Her mind was blank with panic, even the pain from her own broken ribs momentarily overpowered. _Not again. We just got you back, I can't lose you again._

The clerics were there, and Caduceus gently forced her to lay back down, worry twisting his features as he put a large hand on Beau's chest and let his healing magic flow through her. She felt her bones knit themselves back together, wounds closing up, but she barely noticed, eyes fixated on Jester who had fallen to her knees next to Yasha. Tears were streaming down her face. 

"She isn't breathing," she sobbed, "I- I didn't bring a diamond-" 

"Jes-" Beau choked on her words for a moment, her lungs still struggling to breathe. She forced herself to sit up, even though every muscle in her body screamed in protest. "She said she's easier to bring back. Remember? Maybe you don't need the diamond." 

Jester stared at her for a moment before the realization dawned on her and she nodded furiously. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began the ritual, mumbling arcane words and drawing invisible sigils over Yasha's chest. Beau crawled forward across the forest floor, reaching for Yasha's hand without thinking about it. Her own heavy breaths sounded incredibly loud in her ears. 

_Please come back to us. Please._

Jester finished her spell and sat back up. For a horrible moment, nothing happened. Then suddenly Yasha's chest heaved and her body came to life as she sucked in a huge, desperate breath, coughing up blood. 

She was still horribly injured, the remains of her ribcage only slowly reforming as Jester and Caduceus pumped healing spell after healing spell into her. But her eyes were fixated on Beau's. There was no regret, no fear in them, not even pain. 

Only relief. 

They decided to make camp in the forest that night. Too many of them were still badly injured and Caduceus and Jester were out of spells. So Caleb set up the dome like he hadn't in a long time, all of them shuffled inside it and they tried to sleep as best as they could. None of them had brought their bedrolls, but the grass and moss on the forest floor were comfortable enough. Beau's chest still ached with every breath she took, and though she knew she would feel better after a good night's rest, once again she couldn't sleep. The thoughts in her head refused to quieten down, memories of lying on the ground, the cyclops's club raised above her, ready to crush her skull, of Jester screaming, of Yasha's dead eyes. 

It made her shiver every time she recalled it. She'd seen many different things in those eyes since she'd met Yasha - uncertainty, fear, affection, delight, rage. Even the blank stare while Obann had his claws in her mind, cutting down her friends without so much as batting an eyelash. 

But that lifelessness. The dullness. The complete lack of light in them. 

It was haunting. Even more so because Beau had caused it. 

Yasha had taken that blow for her. Thrown herself in front of Beau to shield her with her own body. And she'd died for it. 

Only now it seemed to really hit home what that meant. Yasha had been dead. There had been no guarantee that Jester's spell would work. Had their luck been any worse, they would have been holding vigil by Yasha's body right now, like they had with Mollymauk all that time ago. They would have lost her again and this time there would have been no bringing her back. No spell for Caduceus to shatter. No chains for Yasha to break. 

Just that awful absence of light in her eyes, and the warmth fading from her body with every passing minute. 

Beau felt a lump building in her throat, and she hastily swallowed it down. Crying in front of everyone was the last thing she needed. The others were fast asleep, but the risk of waking someone up was too great. 

She sighed and sat up slowly, taking a look around. Jester was snoring on the other side of the dome, cuddling Fjord's arm like it was a stuffed animal. A pang of jealously coursed through Beau, but only for a moment before it was followed up by resignation. It wasn't like she wasn't aware that Jester liked Fjord. Jester didn't exactly make it a secret. 

She supposed there was no point in fretting over it. It was what it was. 

What was much more alarming than Jester being heterosexual was the empty spot at the edge of the dome where Yasha had been lying until... how long ago? Beau hadn't heard her get up. 

She felt fear gripping her heart with icy claws, and she scrambled to her feet as quietly as she could, tiptoeing between her sleeping friends and finally stepping out of the dome. It was dark outside, and her eyes hadn't yet readjusted to the ever present darkness over Rosohna and the surrounding area. What few beams of moonlight made it through the clouds and the trees barely illuminated the forest enough to outline the shapes of trees and bushes, making the scene even eerier than it already was. It was cold, too, and Beau caught herself wishing she had Yasha's cloak to wrap herself up in before she reminded herself to focus. 

She reached for her dark vision goggles and found them dangling at her belt. Thanking Ioun she had thought to bring them with her, she pulled them on, and suddenly the darkness of the night dissolved and separated into the forest landscape she knew. For a moment she stood still, listening for any sounds that might have given her clues as to Yasha's position, but she heard nothing except the rustling of leaves and the distant creaking of the undergrowth as nocturnal animals moved through it. 

She didn't dare entertain the thought that Yasha might already be long gone. Instead, she set off on finding her, perfectly aware that it was foolish of her to go all by herself but unable to stop herself. 

_She wouldn't leave. Not after everything that happened._

But then again, she couldn't be sure. She sometimes felt like she didn't really know Yasha at all. 

A chilling thought, especially considering she was walking through a dark forest alone in the middle of the night looking for her. 

But she didn't have to look for very long. Yasha wasn't exactly hiding. She was sitting maybe fifty feet away from the dome, leaning against a thick tree trunk, the Magician's Judge beside her. Beau wasn't sure if she was awake at first, but then she noticed that her eyes were open. She wasn't moving, just silently staring off into the distance. 

"Yasha?" Beau approached her slowly, hesitantly. "Are you okay?" 

To her surprise, Yasha actually turned her head, acknowledging her presence. "I'm fine," she said quietly. 

"You weren't in the dome. I thought you took off." 

"No, I..." Yasha took a deep breath. "I just needed some air. I don't think I'm going to have to leave anytime soon." 

That was more relieving to hear than Beau cared to admit. 

She stood next to Yasha's tree for a moment, debating. She had her answer, and she should've probably gone back to the dome, give Yasha some space, but something made her linger. 

"We should probably, um, talk about earlier," she said carefully. Yasha looked up at her, her expression unreadable. 

"Talk about what?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe the fact that you, like, literally died for me a few hours ago." 

She continued when Yasha didn't reply. "You threw yourself in front of me. You were trying to take the blow for me, even though you were already injured." It sounded like an accusation.

"It worked, didn't it." Yasha gave a small shrug.

"How can you be so nonchalant about this? You _died,_ Yasha. You weren't fucking breathing anymore. The only reason we were able to bring you back was because of your weird... angel shit or whatever that makes it not take a diamond with you." Beau threw her hands up. "I just wanna know why in the world you would-" 

"Beau," Yasha said quietly, "if you died, I would never forgive myself." 

Beau stopped in her tracks. "What?"

"If that greatclub had hit you, and you had died, it would have been my fault," Yasha said patiently. "Because then I would have chosen not to protect you even though I could have." 

"Yasha, that's bullshit, you aren't responsible for me-"

Yasha interrupted her. "Too many people have died because I wasn't there to protect them."

She paused for a moment, staring down at the ground, clearly struggling to find the right words. 

"I don't even remember most of my life," she said haltingly, "but what I remember is... I've spent my entire life just causing others pain. I can't seem to help it. I kill and I hurt and I destroy and it comes to me so easily." 

It occurred to Beau that she had never heard Yasha speak so much all at once. She stood there, completely still, listening intently. 

"I hate it." Yasha's voice was still soft, but there was an intensity behind it. A vicious note of truth. "I hate that I can never escape it, no matter how I try. And then... and then I can't even use those things, I can't even use that violence to protect the ones I love. I failed all of them." 

She met Beau's eyes. "I'm not going to fail you too." 

The meaning of her words caught up with Beau a moment too late. It petrified her, staring back at Yasha with wide eyes, mind frozen. 

Yasha smiled. The saddest, most beautiful smile Beau had ever seen. 

"It's okay. I know you don't feel the same way. I never expected anything else." 

Something in Beau wanted to speak up, wanted to protest, but she couldn't seem to open her mouth. 

"It doesn't matter," Yasha said softly, "as long as I get to keep you safe. That's all I want." 

Beau was speechless. Her thoughts were stumbling over themselves, unable to take a coherent form. What were you supposed to say when someone had just confessed their love to you in the same breath as saying that they viewed it as their duty to protect you, with their life if necessary? 

She didn't know how to reply. She didn't know how to feel. The only thing she could focus on was Yasha's heartbreaking smile, and Jester's words echoing in her mind.

_Yasha is totally in love with you._

Beau opened her mouth. 

"I'm not your wife, Yasha." 

Yasha's face crumbled. So suddenly and devastatingly that it shook Beau to her core, the expression in her eyes like a knife to the gut. 

She hadn't meant to say that. Not like that. But she couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out.

"I've made it this far perfectly fine without you here for most of it, haven't I? I don't need you to watch over me and fucking... get killed for my sorry ass. Do you think that's what she would have wanted?" 

She was feeling far too much all at the same time. A part of her was shaking with anger, but a different part wanted to fall on her knees next to Yasha and hold her, and another wanted to start to cry and apologize, and another entirely too large part simply wanted to run away. 

Beau turned her back on Yasha, hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

"I can take care of myself." The words sounded hollow. There was no reply, but the image of Yasha's heartbroken face was burned into Beau's mind. She bit down on her lip to stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes, and without another word started making her way back to the dome. 

Jester was awake when she got back, but for once, she didn't say anything. Her big black eyes watched Beau with a sorrowful expression as she laid back down, pulling her knees to her chest. It made Beau feel even more awful.

She didn't sleep that night. The next morning, Yasha was back, but Beau couldn't look her in the eyes. She didn't have to to feel that horrible sadness that she was carrying with her with every step. Even more so than before. 

Beau knew she was the cause of it, and the thought made her stomach turn. So she tried not to think about it. Avoided Yasha's eyes. And did her best not to care that she hadn't said a word to Beau since that conversation in the woods. 

They eventually went back to the Empire in search of the second missing beacon. The Bright Queen was putting more and more pressure on them and they would need to find the object soon if they wanted to keep their status with the Dynasty. 

Beau was all too happy about getting back on the road. Just sitting around the Xhorhaus and barely ever getting to do anything had been well on its way to driving her insane, to say nothing of the tension between her and Yasha that hadn't wavered since the incident with the cyclopes and that the rest of the Nein had most definitely taken notice of. All of them had been too polite - or not invested enough - to say anything about it, with the exception of Nott, who had spent an entire evening needling Beau about what had happened between them and gotten almost nothing out of her, much to her frustration. 

But everyone was painfully aware of it, and it had made some of the relationships within the group... strained. Some proper adventuring would hopefully put things back as they had been. 

Beau suspected deep down that it wouldn't be that simple, but one could always hope.

The search turned into a lot of chasing trails that had long since gone cold, days or weeks of investigating locations and people that ended up barely giving them any new hints. Beau found herself missing the simpler times when they had taken on contracts to kill giant spiders terrorizing the sewers and fought gnoll hordes in their tunnels instead of playing detectives for the fucking Kryn Dynasty. She missed the physical outlet. She'd never been good at dealing with her emotions any other way. 

Three weeks into their stay in the Empire, Beau was contacted by Dairon. She was due for a training session, and she jumped at the chance. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the inn they had spent they last few days in, plagued by the accusing looks the others threw her whenever she entered a room and Yasha got up and left. Something to hit, something to hurt - that was what she needed. 

Dairon waited for her in an abandoned warehouse, almost like they had done all that time ago in Trostenwald. They were wearing their Expositor's robes to match Beau's, but Beau was all too aware that they were nowhere close to equals. She would never say it out loud, but she often wished she had what Dairon did. They just seemed so... in control. Of themselves and their environment. Like they knew exactly what they were doing. Like they knew who they were and what they wanted to do.

In short, everything Beau wasn't. 

It normally didn't irritate her this much, but today she felt on edge. Like she had something to prove. To herself or to Dairon - did it matter? 

The only thing that really mattered was whether or not she could land the next punch, earn another one of the looks Dairon gave her when she did something right that didn't really qualify as praise but were the closest thing to it Beau would get from her. Beau didn't like to admit she wanted Dairon's approval at all. She didn't need it. She was better than that. 

Dairon pushed her hard. She always did, but today, Beau felt every reprimand, every harshly voiced criticism, every strike that was so clearly held back in order not to seriously harm her, deep in her marrow, reverberating through her and blurring her vision. Like every time was another piece of proof that she wasn't good enough, that she was failing even at the one thing she was supposed to know how to do. 

Gritting her teeth, she threw another punch at Dairon's temple. They dodged it with so much ease it felt like a slap in the face. Beau's follow-up kick landed, but Dairon didn't even seem to budge. Instead, she used the moment when Beau was off balance to kick her other leg out from underneath her, and she landed hard on the stone floor, momentarily losing her breath. Humiliation and rage coursed through her as she tried to scramble up, but Dairon's hand crabbed her by the collar and roughly yanked her to her feet before she could.

"Focus," they snarled. Beau spit out some blood before charging at them again, pretending to go for their throat but ducking underneath their outstretched arms at the last moment and getting in two good punches to their liver before a knee hit her in the abdomen and she got thrown back, barely managing to catch her balance and avoid falling again. 

"Come on, Beauregard, you can do better than this." A kick to her face that she only dodged by a hair's breadth. "You're leading me to believe I was wrong for appointing you an Expositor already after all." 

Beau tried to elbow her in the nose, but she caught her arm and twisted it, easily throwing her to the ground once again. She got to her feet. Another kick, another parry, another takedown. And again, and again, and again. The harder Beau tried to get any hits in, the sloppier her attacks became, blinded with rage. 

She was just so _frustrated._ She wanted a punching bag like the ones they'd had at the Cobalt Soul, to just once hit something that wouldn't hit her back, that she could pummel for hours and just let out all that anger, the pent up fear and worry and self-disdain until she was too exhausted to stand up. But Dairon punched her in the face again and she thought she could feel a tooth coming loose, and she knew there would be no release. Only more pain. 

"What is _wrong_ with you?" 

Dairon sounded almost as frustrated as Beau now. Beau kicked them hard in the sternum and celebrated a small victory as they stumbled back a few steps. 

"Nothing's wrong." She blocked a punch with her forearm before trying to go for Dairon's abdomen, but Dairon kneed her in the chest before she could. 

"Do not lie to me. You're fighting like you did the first time we met. I know you." A spin kick to the stomach that almost made Beau fall to her knees. "Tell me what is wrong." 

"It's none of your fucking business." 

"It becomes my business when it impacts your performance." They sidestepped Beau's charge easily. 

"Since when do you even care about what goes on in my life?" Beau punched them in the kidneys with as much force as she could muster, but it barely seemed to do anything. 

"Since you went back to fighting like the scrawny sixteen year old that you were when you came to the Archive." 

Something in Beau snapped. 

"LEAVE- ME- ALONE!" 

She barely aimed her next two punches, she just wanted them to hit _something_ , wanted them to hurt, wanted to feel something break beneath her knuckles. For a split second, she felt satisfaction wash over her when Dairon gave a pained grunt, but then the grunt turned into a snarl and Beau felt something hit her in the back of her knee, and the ground was ripped away from beneath her feet. She landed hard on her back, the air having left her lungs, and spent several moments gasping for breath, unable to resist as Dairon crouched down over her and pinned her to the ground with an iron grip. 

"Talk to me, Beauregard!" 

Their face was bloodied, their teeth bared slightly, but Beau could see the worry in their black eyes. 

A laugh made its way forth from her throat, bubbling out between her cracked lips before she choked on it and coughed until laughter gave way to sobs. 

She didn't bother trying to hold her tears back. Normally she would've been ashamed of crying in front of others, least of all her mentor who she was supposed to prove to that she wasn't this weak, but she'd been bottling it all up for so long. Her jaw still hurt where Dairon had hit her, her vision was blurry, and she felt like she would never find the strength to get up from the floor ever again, and because her head was so heavy and she couldn't think anymore, she gave up and cried. Like it fucking mattered.

"Beauregard?" Dairon sounded genuinely concerned. Beau wrenched a hand free from her grip to wipe at her eyes. 

"Get off me," she choked out, the words broken up by sobs. 

"You aren't... crying because-" 

"I'm not crying because you fucking hit me." 

Beau pushed herself up and shoved Dairon away. To her surprise, they let her. 

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on her arms, closing her eyes. The darkness behind her lids eased her pounding headache. 

Beau was so incredibly exhausted. 

"Will you tell me what's wrong now?" 

Beau didn't think she'd ever heard Dairon sound so gentle. 

"I don't think this is the kind of story you're interested in hearing," she mumbled into her knees. She felt one of Dairon's hands on her shoulder. 

"Try me." 

Beau was silent for a little while.

"Dairon, have you ever been in love?"

Dairon quirked an eyebrow. "Not in a long time, but yes. Don't tell me you're having girl problems, Beauregard." 

" _Girl problems_ is such an understatement I don't even know where to start correcting you."

"Start somewhere." 

Beau sighed. "I said something very bad to someone that I... hadn't realized how much I cared about. She more or less told me she has feelings for me and I somehow responded with the worst possible thing to say to that, and now she won't talk to me. Which I get, really, I would be pissed at me too. It just..." 

She wiped at her nose.

"It bothers me so much more than I thought it would. And I don't know what to do about it." 

"You could apologize?"

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

Beau stared at them.

"Explain it to me. Why is it not that simple?"

Beau opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I don't know what I could possibly tell her that wouldn't sound like a lie," she finally got out. "This isn't just one misunderstanding. I think I probably had this coming since the first time I met her. I've been nothing but a fucking ass to her this entire time and the fact that she's put up with it for this long is kind of incredible, when you think about it." 

A small sob escaped her. 

"You know, I used to think I liked her. I mean, she looks like she was put on the gods' green earth to make every lesbian out there weak in the knees. But she always seemed so... unattainable. I tried to hit on her so many times and it was like she didn't even notice. And she has this whole thing where the god she worships sometimes tells her to go on mysterious quests all by herself, so sometimes we would wake up in the morning and she'd just be gone. On top of that it turns out that she used to be married, and her wife was murdered in front of her, so..." 

Beau shrugged. "Guess I eventually just... tried to let it go. I was pretty sure she didn't like me much anyways."

"But?" Dairon helped her along after a few seconds of silence.

A sigh. "Turns out I was wrong and she's actually been in love with me this whole time. Doesn't that sound like a fucking joke?" 

She buried her face in her hands. "Now I have that to beat myself up over, on top of the fact that I really wasn't the most respectful about flirting with her, not to mention that..." Her voice trailed off.

"Not to mention what, Beauregard?" 

Thinking about it still made her shudder. Reluctantly, she pulled herself together. "We fought a couple of cylopes the other day," she began. "It wasn't going too bad until one of them bashed me into a tree and crushed my ribs. Thought I was done for." She stared at the ground in front of her. "Yasha threw herself in front of me and caught the final blow for me. She was dead for maybe a minute or two until Jester resurrected her."

Dairon took a few moments to respond.

"Yasha, that's your tall friend, yes? With the greatsword?"

Beau just nodded. 

"And she told you she loves you?"

"She told me that she sees it as her duty to protect me, because she can't lose another person she loves. And then she smiled at me and started talking about how she knows I don't feel the same way and I... I panicked." 

"Because you do feel the same way?"

"I don't know!" Beau threw her hands up. "I don't know how to feel anymore. I really thought I was over her. I mean, I thought I just had a stupid crush in the first place, not- not anything like this. But when she was dead, I..." 

She didn't finish her sentence. New tears threatened to well up in her eyes and she aggressively wiped at them with the back of her hand. 

"It was like everything was over. Like nothing existed except for me and her and... the knowledge that she was gone and it was my fault."

"It wasn't your fault, Beauregard." Dairon put a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't tell her to take that blow for you." 

"Yeah, but if not for me she never would've made that decision at all. Maybe if I hadn't flirted with her like an idiot without any regard for her feelings none of this would ever have happened."

"You aren't responsible for other people's emotions." Dairon lightly took Beau's chin in between thumb and forefinger and tipped her head up to make her look at them. "If this Yasha is in love with you, that is on her and her alone. Whether you feel good about it or not, you didn't make her fall in love with you. She did that all by herself." 

Beau sniffled a little. "It doesn't feel like it." 

"Then you'll just have to believe me." Dairon let go of her chin. "Tell me, Beauregard, what would you like to happen next?" 

Beau stared at the warehouse wall opposite her, pondering the question. A million different answers came to her all at once and none of them felt quite right. Her stomach felt like it was turning itself into knots with the turmoil inside of her. 

"I..." Beau rubbed at her forehead. "I want to resolve this."

Dairon made a gesture telling her to go on. 

"I really regret telling her what I did, and I know I can't undo it, but I'd like her to know that, I think. I don't want her to be upset with me anymore. And I want to figure out how I feel. Which I should probably do before I talk to her, because I really don't want to hurt her again." She flicked at a pebble on the ground. "Just wish I knew how."

Dairon tilted their head. "I can't tell you if you love this woman or not."

"I know," Beau grumbled.

"I will admit that it sounds like you do, though."

"What, so you'll be all _oh Beauregard I can't explain your own feelings to you_ and then turn around and just... say that?!" 

Dairon put their hands up defensively. "All I'm saying is I can't read your mind." They paused. "Unfortunately." 

Beau punched them in the arm. 

"That's my student right there," Dairon smirked. Beau groaned.

"Have I mentioned how fucking weird it is to talk to you about my love life?"

"It's a little weird," Dairon agreed. "But I rarely get the chance to learn so much about what's going on inside your head. I do treasure that opportunity." 

"Ugh, you're making it even weirder." 

"In all seriousness, Beauregard." Dairon looked her in the eyes. "You should talk this out with her. That's the only way either of you will find peace, and the only way you'll go back to fighting like I taught you instead of a first year novice at the Cobalt Soul." 

"Hey, it wasn't that bad." 

"Pretty close." 

"Okay, okay. I'll talk to Yasha, I guess." She sighed. "Don't know how or what I'll even say to her, but..." 

Dairon patted her amicably on the shoulder. "You'll figure something out. You're smart, after all."

"Is that a compliment I hear?"

"A statement." 

Beau managed a grin as she rose from the ground and dusted herself off. "I'll remember that." 

Dairon rolled her eyes. "Shoo. Go fix this before it's too late, Beau." 

"We doing nicknames now? Careful, I might start calling you Ron." 

"If you do that, I will break your jaw," Dairon stated. 

"Oh, I know." 

Beau stopped briefly when she reached the door. "And Dairon? Thanks." 

Dairon almost smiled. Almost. "You are welcome, Beauregard." 

Beau thought a lot about that conversation in the weeks that followed. It wasn't for a lack of other things to be concerned about, but Beau caught her thoughts drifting off while they all stood in Ludinus Da'leth's office, her eyes lingering on Yasha's tall, still form while she replayed Dairon's words in her mind, over and over. Yasha still hadn't really spoken to her, but she didn't leave the room when Beau entered anymore. Maybe she could sense the change in Beau's demeanor as well. 

Beau ached with the need to resolve this. She was so sick of the silence between them, and she wanted to see Yasha's smile again. But even more than that she wanted to do this right. Think about it for once in her life instead of just opening her mouth and hoping that whatever came out wouldn't make the situation too much worse. That was the least she owed Yasha. 

Days turned into weeks. They returned to Rosohna once more to discuss the matter of possible peace talks with the Dwendalian Empire with the Bright Queen, and after that, nothing much happened for a long time. The others seemed to welcome the downtime. Caleb spent a somewhat suspicious amount of time at Essek's mansion, probably working on new spells and Ioun knew what else - Beau didn't really want to think about it. 

Jester was up to her neck in preparations for TravelerCon. It honestly didn't seem fair to Beau that the Traveler's most dedicated follower had to do all of that herself, but bringing it up to Jester was met only with scorn, so she let her be. She seemed happy enough, spending all day making necklaces with the symbol of the Traveler and somewhat sloppily embroidering the heap of green cloaks she'd acquired. 

Nott spent most of the time locked in her room, from where Beau could occasionally hear small explosions, glass shattering, and Nott's high pitched cursing. Caduceus tended to this garden, Fjord tried to keep up with Beau's rigorous exercise regimen (and failed), and Yasha...

Beau didn't see much of Yasha. Sometimes she caught herself worrying that she was, after all, going to leave, despite claiming she wouldn't need to anytime soon. But then, one afternoon, Beau's ears caught an unusual sound while she was sitting at the kitchen table, repairing a tear in her coat. She paused, frowning, trying to match a source to what she was hearing - a faint music, gentle in tone, strings being plucked...

It suddenly occurred to Beau that she had never heard Yasha playing the bone harp that she'd bought in Rexxentrum before. 

Before she knew what she was doing, Beau had abandoned her work and was on her way to the roof of the Xhorhaus, where the music was coming from. As she came closer, Yasha's inexperience with the instrument became somewhat more clear to hear, but it didn't take away from the beauty of what she was playing. If at all, it added to it, an irresistible, honest charm. Beau caught herself smiling as she walked up the stairs to the roof garden, on her tiptoes as to not draw too much attention. 

She emerged close to the trunk of the tree that Caduceus had planted up here, and immediately pressed close to it, just peeking past it to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the other side. 

Caduceus was there, tending to some of his plants with that slow, thorough gentleness innate to him. A few feet away, Yasha was sitting on a low stool with her harp. Her eyes were closed, her head inclined forward, as she delicately plucked at the strings. Beau watched, mesmerized, the way those large, strong hands moved across the instrument, lightly, the same care in her motions that Beau saw when she stopped at the side of the road to pick flowers and put them in her book. Yasha's hair was completely loose, tumbling over her shoulder and partially obscuring her face, a waterfall of black and white sprinkled with blue where she had woven dozens of small flowers into it. 

Beau could faintly make out her expression as she continued to play. Her features were relaxed, her brow not furrowed for once, the corners of her mouth faintly quirked up. She looked... almost happy. 

Something seized in Beau's chest at the realization. Some of it was pain at the realization that she hadn't seen Yasha look like that in a very long time and that that was probably at least partially her fault. But some of it was something warm, and fluttering, like a rush of blood and light and a bizarre joy that she couldn't recall ever feeling before. 

Not for Tori, and not for Jester. 

Beau stood there and watched Yasha play her harp from behind the tree, and she couldn't think of anything but how she wanted to see Yasha smile like that, over and over, every single day. She wanted to be the reason for it. 

Caduceus straightened up and turned his head slightly, just catching Beau's eyes from where she was looking out from behind the tree trunk. She shrugged a little sheepishly, but he just gave her one of those serene, good-natured smiles of his, put down his watering can and started wandering towards her. 

"Hello, Beau. Anything I can help you with?" 

She smiled back at him. "Nah. I'm good. Thanks, Cad." 

Yasha had stopped playing and was now staring at Beau, eyes wide. Caduceus patted Beau on the shoulder lightly and pushed past her to make his way down the staircase. 

"I'll leave you two to it." 

Beau didn't bother asking him what he meant. Caduceus seemed to always know exactly what was going on around him. He probably understood everyone else's feelings better than they did. 

Beau stepped out from behind the tree. "Hey, Yasha." 

"Beau..." That ever present crease between her eyebrows had returned. "I didn't notice you. For how long were you standing there?" 

Beau shrugged. "Don't know. A little while." She took a few steps towards Yasha, slowly, to gauge her reaction. When she didn't flinch, Beau continued. 

"What you were playing, that was beautiful." 

Yasha lowered her gaze. "Thank you. I'm, ah, not very good yet." 

"No, no, that was great. I think..." She looked for the right words. "I think you're a natural talent. That's what Caleb would probably call it." 

Yasha let out a small chuckle at that. Beau's heart jumped in her chest again. She took another step forward and lowered herself to sit on the floor in front of Yasha, looking up at her.

"Do you want to keep playing? I... I'd like to hear more. If you don't mind." 

Yasha's eyes lingered on her face for a moment. Then she nodded. "Okay." 

Her hands returned to the strings, and her eyes drifted closed again. Beau watched, enraptured, as Yasha's fingers began to move and the gentle melody from before continued. It was a little awkward at first, Yasha seemingly self-conscious because of Beau's presence, but then she eased up, her posture relaxing, and the music resumed that mindless flow from before, occasionally halting, aimless, but no less beautiful for it. The fact that there was no sheet of music, that Yasha was just playing whatever came to her, added to it. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. Like catching a glimpse into Yasha's soul. 

Yasha played and played, and Beau watched and listened, and honestly, she would've been perfectly content to just sit here and watch and listen for the rest of eternity. But there came a point when Yasha's hands once again slowed, and the melody slowly faded. Silence settled around them, disturbed only by the faint rustling of the leaves above them.

"Why did you come here, Beau?" 

Yasha's voice cut through the quiet like a knife, even though she sounded tired. It startled Beau for a moment.

"I..." She tried to think of something to reply, something that wouldn't sound stupid, or make her look like more of an asshole. _Goddammit._ Just this once she'd wanted to prepare for this situation, not rush in blind, say the right thing, and she'd went and fucked that up too. 

Her first instinct was to run away, but she wouldn't do that to Yasha. Not after everything.

Before could come up with a response, Yasha spoke again.

"I can't do this." She gestured between them. "Sitting here with you, and talking like... like nothing happened and nothing's wrong." 

The words stung harshly in Beau's chest, and she instinctively recoiled a bit. "Yasha, I'm-" 

Yasha cut her off. "No, listen to me, Beau. Just this once, listen to what I have to say."

Beau closed her mouth. Yasha was looking her in the eyes, something she so rarely did, and there was an expression on her face that was a mixture of fury and sadness, but there was also something dreadfully soft in it. 

"I never expected you to return my feelings. I need you to understand that. I wasn't trying to pressure you when I told you how I felt. All I wanted was to explain to you why I did what I did. It's not because of Zuala, or because of Molly. It's because of you." 

Beau felt the need to avert her gaze from Yasha's. The intensity in it felt like it might burn her. 

"It's hard for me to tell you these things," Yasha continued. "I'm... I'm bad at talking to people, and sometimes I get laughed or yelled at when I try. But I'm doing it for you, because you're not like anyone else, Beau."

The leaves of the giant oak above them softly rustled in the night wind. Beau was reminded of the last time they'd had a conversation like this, under the Wildmother's tree in the barbed fields. 

"I care for these people. All of them. Caduceus and Caleb give me trust that I don't deserve, and they understand how I feel. Jester is like a star in a pitch black sky, and I adore her - who wouldn't?

Nott and Fjord are mistrustful of me, but still, they always give me a chance to prove that I'm better than how they see me. I don't know if I am, but... that's more than anyone else has ever offered me. To do them so, so wrong, and still be welcomed back with open arms, to let me try again, and again, and again. But you, Beau." 

Yasha exhaled softly, a breath she'd been holding in for too long. "I took an oath, once, that I would never feel this for anyone else again. And I broke it. I broke it for you. Whenever the Stormlord called me away from the group, you made it hard to leave. And you were what made me find my way back to you, every time. You're like..." 

She seemed to struggle to find the right words. Beau could just sit there and listen, like something was magically tethering her to her spot on the ground. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to.

"Most days, my life feels like I'm threading through a thunderstorm, a vicious one. I can't see anything except for the rain, and the pitch black clouds, and the strikes of lightning in the distance, and there isn't an end to it. But then I look at you... and a beam of sunlight breaks through it all." 

Beau covered her mouth with one hand. It was all she could do to control the expression on her face, to stop tears from welling up in her eyes. 

Nobody had ever spoken about her like that. 

"Do you know what the worst thing is that I ever did?" Yasha's voice was soft. When Beau looked up, she realized Yasha had slid off her stool, the harp leaning against it, and was now kneeling in the grass across from Beau. 

"When I almost killed you, that day in the Cathedral. How I felt when I realized what I'd done... nothing will ever come close to it." She reached out a hand and caressed Beau's cheek with the tips of her fingers, just for a moment. Her touch seemed to burn on Beau's skin.

"That's why I couldn't let you die, Beau. That's why I'd rather take that blow a thousand times over than let it happen."

Their eyes met again. 

"I love you. Whether you like it or not." 

Yasha rose from her spot on the floor, leaving Beau frozen. "I will never be angry at you because you don't return my feelings. But don't play with me. I can't take it if you do." 

She made it almost around the side of the tree until Beau suddenly sprung into action. She scrambled to her feet and hurried after Yasha, grabbing her wrist. Yasha froze.

"Wait."

Yasha closed her eyes. "Beau..." 

"I listened to you, so now you listen to me, okay? Please."

After a moment that stretched into eternity, Yasha turned around to face her. Beau took a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry for flirting with you even though you didn't seem interested, and I'm sorry for not trying harder to save you, and I'm sorry for saying that horrible shit to you - about your wife. I was an asshole and you didn't deserve that."

She let go of Yasha's wrist and took a step until her back made contact with the tree trunk. "I know an apology can't really fix what's been done, but... Yasha, I've been thinking. A lot." She twisted her hands in front of her, heart suddenly beating a lot faster. "And I think the reason I lashed out at you back then was because the thought of losing you was fucking terrifying. You say the worst thing you've ever done was hurting me while you weren't in control of your actions? Well, to me the worst thing I could've done would have been that. Having caused your death with my carelessness." A brief, joyless laugh escaped her. "And I did, for a minute or so. Worst minute of my life. And then... I got overwhelmed when you told me you... you love me. Because I didn't expect it and I didn't know what I was feeling. But I took it out on you and that's unforgivable. I don't know if I've ever regretted something so much." 

They stared at each other for several long moments, neither of them speaking nor moving. Almost like they were sizing each other up. Beau felt horribly vulnerable in a way she hadn't in a very long time, but for once, she let it happen instead of trying to shield herself from Yasha's observing gaze. 

_Fix this, before it's too late._

"And now?" Yasha finally broke the silence. "Where do we go from here?"

Beau took a step towards her. Then another. "We go wherever you want to go. Because I've realized something, Yasha." 

"And what is that?" 

Only inches separated them now. 

"You were wrong when you said I would never return your feelings." 

There was a moment of silence, Beau's heart pounding against her ribs. Then a noise almost like a sob escaped Yasha, and she took a step forward and dropped her head onto Beau's shoulder, burying her face in the side of her neck. Beau was startled for only a moment before her arms came up to encircle Yasha's waist, holding her close. She could feel her tears on her skin, felt her shaking faintly, but she didn't mind. 

"I love you," Beau murmured into Yasha's hair. Yasha quaked in her arms. "I'm so sorry it took me so long to realize." 

Yasha pulled back a little to look at her, cheeks streaked with tears, disbelief mixed with a shining hope in her eyes that Beau had never seen before and that made her heart flutter in her chest. 

"Are you serious?" Beau didn't reply. She just brought her hands up behind Yasha's neck, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed her. 

Yasha fell into the kiss like she'd been waiting for this for a thousand years. Her warm breath came harshly against Beau's skin, still occasionally broken up by sobs that were swallowed up by the kiss. Beau could taste the salt of Yasha's tears, and her lips were chapped and her hands held Beau's shoulders maybe a bit too tightly, but Beau didn't care. 

It was perfect. Yasha was perfect.

When they parted, she stroked Yasha's cheek with her thumb. 

"Yasha," she said quietly, "I think you're incredible. And whatever we have, I want it. I want it to stay. I swear I'll try so hard not to fuck it up again."

"You won't." Yasha leaned her forehead against Beau's. She took a harsh, shuddering breath. "I want it too, Beau, so much. God, I don't know if you understand how much. I'd die for you again if I had to." 

Beau slowly combed through Yasha's mass of hair with her fingers, still cradling the back of her head. "I want you to live," she whispered. "Live, Yasha."

Yasha broke into sobs again. Beau pulled her close and held her there while she cried on her shoulder, with grief for what she'd lost, fear of what was to come, and, most of all, joy. 

Beau buried her face in her hair and deeply breathed in her scent. 

She smelled like wildflowers.


End file.
